Rebirth of the Light: Glimpses of the Future
by Caslia
Summary: Final installment in this AU Anakin Skywalker redemption series. Catch glimspes of the struggles, victories, self-discoveries and family moments that lay ahead. Updated 07/13
1. Introduction

**Rebirth of the Light: Glimpses of the Future**

* * *

It took far longer than I had ever intended, but _Rebirth of the Light: The Years In Between_ is finally completed. There were a lot of unexpected plot changes along the way, including a rewriting of the final chapter in the original _Rebirth of the Light_.

This final installment was also never a part of the plan, but one night, while I was supposed to be working on a final paper for a rather excruciating grad class, I randomly came up with the idea for one of the later chapters. I was stupid enough to indulge that particular train of thought, and what emerged was this collection of one-post, one-scene snippets of life for the Skywalker/Kenobi family after the last chapter in _The Years That Followed_.

When the Force intervened, allowing Darth Vader to be redeemed through the birth of his children, a lot more than just Anakin's life changed. Now the Rebellion has a chance against the Empire, the Jedi Order is rebuilding itself, and both the Emperor and the Death Star are no longer in the equation. _Glimpses of the Future_ can be read as an epilogue to _The Years That Followed_ series. Some moments are the kind you would expect, others will hopefully come as something of a surprise. Hopefully, all of them will touch you in their separate ways and act as a final salute to the AU version of Anakin and Obi-wan's story that has been _Rebirth of the Light_.

To my readers who have held out this long, thanks and apologies for all the delays. And to any who joined along the way or are just now wandering in, again with sincere apologies…the earlier chapters seemed much better when I originally wrote them all those years ago.

May the Force be with you,

Caslia


	2. The Kenobis

Imagine my surprise when all I do is put the introduction to _RofL: Glimpses into the Future_ as a marker, and the next thing I know my inbox is ambushed by over twenty Story Alerts within the first few hours! And even a review! How can I express my gratitude for such dedication? I know – I'll write the first post. ;)

Let's get the business stuff out of the way: I do not own any of the characters created by George Lucas, and am making no monetary profit off of this little hobby. I also do not hold any claims over any of the original characters you might encounter. Borrow them if you wish. In fact, I'd be very pleased to later encounter them roaming around in someone else's fic.

And finally, there is little or no information about Obi-wan's history before joining the Jedi Order. There are rumors he had a brother named Owen, but I believe that to be from back when Lucas was still tinkering with the background story in the late 70's. We all now know Owen is Anakin's stepbrother, leaving it up to the fans to fill in the Kenobi family tree. I have done just that in my mind's casual wanderings, creating what I believe to be a rather interesting series of characters and events that happen in their lives that tie them to the overall story. Sadly, there is not the space to recount all of that here (a future fic, perhaps?) and so this is merely a brief intro to a few of the Kenobi family members of this Obi-wan. Since I brought up his family in the last chapter of _RotL: The Years in Between_, I figured I should probably touch on them a bit more.

Just for reference, names that have "ao" in them are pronounced "ow", and with "ei" are pronounced "ay." The names "Obi-wan" and "Qui-gon" are probably taken from Japanese, and use a different pronunciation, but I used Mandarin, with which I am more familiar, to derive the names of other characters from their culture/planet.

* * *

Glimpses into the Future

Six and a half years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

The kitchen was warm, and comfortable despite being unfamiliar. Sunlight streamed into the room through stained-glass windows, an incredible luxury on a planet whose economy was based on agriculture, animal husbandry and production of natural resources. The organic lifestyle could be seen in the use of amber-colored wood to build the house. The walls were made of wood, the floors carpeted with rugs woven from local animals and dyed in the multihued essences of local plants. The house's computer system and other technology had been made to blend in with the earthy look.

Even the wide kitchen table they now sat at was real wood. On Coruscant, it would have cost more credits than even a senator made in a year. But Kao-shi placed the steaming mugs of milk tea down on the table with nonchalance, his broad smile and dancing eyes easing away any discomfort at being strangers in this intimate space.

"I knew you would come one day. Somehow, I just knew we would see you again."

"Perhaps you have a little of the Jedi in yourself, Merchant Kenobi." Sabe teased the older man who sat across from them. From the moment they had been greeted at the door of the large family home, she had instinctively liked the broad-shouldered, smiling older gentleman that was Obi-wan's father.

He laughed in response, a deep robust sound that seemed to come from his very core. It was the kind of laugh that engendered mirth in everyone else around him. "None of that, my girl. Any friend of my boy's is to call me Kao-shi, and let that be the end of it."

Sabe own smile blossomed in return, and she reached under the table to take Obi-wan's hand in hers and give it an encouraging squeeze. He had been his usual self since they arrived, quietly observing everything, being polite but not really engaged. She worried he felt a little overwhelmed by the entire experience.

It wasn't every day that a Jedi, raised in the isolate of the Jedi Temple since infancy, sought out his or her birth family. Obi-wan's reasons had been unusual ones as it was.

When Sabe and Anakin had returned some six months ago from their mission to the Maw, they had been astounded by everything that had gone on in their absence. Anakin had insisted on seeing the Jedi Archives on Urteau for himself, and had agreed with Obi-wan's assessment on how the materials there should be used in the reconstruction of the Order. And then Kenobi had shown his friend the records the Jedi had kept of families.

If the records had caused some moral conflicts for Obi-wan, they hurt Anakin in a way no one had seen coming. And it had had an unexpected result. Anakin Skywalker, by now renowned rogue among the surviving Jedi, took a seat on the revitalized Council. In such a position within the new order, he hoped to stem any future attempts to use families for the breeding of Jedi, and supported his brother in Obi-wan's efforts to construct a new method of dealing with Jedi children and the raising of younglings.

Though the Rebel Alliance continued to push inwards into mid-rim systems, and conflict between their forces and the Imperials was becoming more and more frequent, Obi-wan had come to a decision. He was going to his homeplanet, a place in the mid-rim that he had not been to since joining the Jedi, and meet with his birth family.

Sabe, both for reasons of support and curiosity, had chosen to come along.

So here they were, in the family home where Obi-wan had spent his earliest years, drinking tea with the parents he had no memory of.

"I have holos somewhere," Kao-shi was saying. "From the Clone Wars, when they made you a general in the clone army." He beamed proudly, wrinkles so deep around his eyes and mouth, it looked at those he spent the majority of his life in good humor. Kao-shi was in his late sixties, his once flaxen hair a now dusty gray, but he had a boyish charm about him.

That was probably why Sabe liked him so much. It was easy to see where Obi-wan had gotten some of his better qualities. She had seen that same twinkle in Kao-shi's eyes in his son's.

"I thought you might like this," Obi-wan finally spoke up, reaching into a pouch on his belt to pull out a hologram player. He set it between them on the table and turned it on. A recent holo of himself, Sabe, and the Skywalkers with their droids appeared. He would never have thought of such a thing, but when Padme had heard where he was going, she had set about having this holo taken. Besides the one Obi-wan now had, she had sent one along to the Lars on Tatooine and her sister on Naboo.

"Well, now," Kao-shi scooted the hologram closer, cradling it between his broad hands. "This young man I recognize as well. That's Anakin Skywalker, isn't it? And who are these others?"

Obi-wan leaned across the table a little to point. "That's his wife, Padme, and their children, my nephew Luke, and niece Leia."

"Quite a lovely family you have, son."

Obi-wan reddened a little, in both pleasure and a bit of discomfort, and pulled away. This all seemed so surreal. He wasn't sure how to feel about this at all. This man was his father. But he didn't know him. At the same time, he discovered he greatly liked Kao-shi, with his eager questions and warm personality. Obi-wan was itching to talk, to build some sort of bridge between the years that separated the old merchant and the Jedi from being a little boy and his father. But he wasn't sure where to start or even how to go about it.

"Kao-shi, can't you see you're making Jedi Kenobi uncomfortable?"

"Come look at this, my love. Our Obi-wan has himself a brother and sister-in-law. And a lovely young lady by his side," He winked at Sabe, who glowed with pleasure.

"So," Kao-shi's wife remarked as she brought the plate of fruit she had been slicing over to the table, "you and Jedi Skywalker are 'brothers,' then?" She glanced at the holo in her husband's hands, but didn't sit.

If looking at Kao-shi, Sabe could see where Obi-wan got his sparkle and charm, in Yin-wei she could see where he had gotten his cool-head and polite mannerisms. Despite the intimate setting, his mother stood straight with folded hands, her once dark red hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck and her entire demeanor cordial to a fault. If Sabe hadn't known better, she would have thought Obi-wan's mother had also been raised in the Jedi Temple. She was polite while managing to seem aloof, calm but with a decisive critical edge to her.

And yet, of his two parents, it was Yin-wei Obi-wan seemed to have bonded with immediately.

He smiled at her now, with less unease than he had Kao-shi. And she actually returned it, a slight turning up of the lips that mirrored his own. She was less obvious about it than her husband, but it was clear to Obi-wan his mother was pleased to have him here.

"Yes," he replied to her question, feeling a strange warmth every time he spoke with this straight-backed, thin woman with whom he shared so many traits. He marveled at how his parents' different personalities seem to effortlessly complement each other. It was similar to how he and Anakin managed to make such a good team. "It is something of an unusual thing among the Jedi, to form an attachment such as the one Anakin and I share. But it has turned out to be quite the blessing, for both of us."

"They fight just like real brothers," Sabe threw in, accepting the plate of fruit Kao-shi pushed towards her. It was from the family's very own orchard, out back of the house just past the garden.

The Kenobi's owned quite a bit of land, though they weren't well-off by Coruscant standards. Kaoshi had been a respected merchant whom people immediately took a liking to, and with the sharp intelligence of his wife to keep the books and arrange business deals, the family had extended their business of transporting goods from their homeplanet out into nearby systems. Obi-wan's eldest sister, Med-wyn, who was some fifteen years older, and her husband now ran the business and lived with their five children in the family home.

"Sabe!" he exclaimed, blushing under his re-grown beard. "You shouldn't say things like that. I don't want them to get the impression-"

"Oh, it's alright," Kaoshi broke in, chuckling. "I can only imagine the kind of scrapes the lot of you have gotten into over the years. You've got a lot on your shoulders. It's just good to know you've got people who will stand by you. Heavens know your sisters used to fight like wild nekk dogs when they were young. I've got a holo of them here." He began to rummage in his pockets, which littered his vest and trousers. Though Yin-wei was dressed in smart but simple clothes, Kao-shi wore the clothes of a field hand, as though dismissive of the moderate wealth he had.

"Leave it," Yin-wei placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. "We do not want to overwhelm Jedi Kenobi."

"Please," Obi-wan interrupted, feeling more and more at ease. "You named me. You should call me by that name. And, I would like to see a picture of my – my sisters. It's unfortunate I can't stay and meet them."

"They'll understand," his mother replied, that smile tugging at her lips again. "You have much to tend to, out there in the galaxy."

"Yes," he replied softly, staring back up at her. His mother. This woman who didn't look the least bit frail despite her age, who seemed to know the burdens he carried without having to be told. She looked into him with those gray eyes that were his own, and he could almost feel something silently passing between them.

While his father was an optimist, so full of mirth, so at ease and big-hearted, his mother was a realist whose concerns about his future ordeals was tempered with an acceptance of how little either of them could stop that future from arriving.

Just as she could not have stopped the Jedi from taking him as a child. With three daughters to raise and support, Yin-wei had handed her only son into the care of strangers with only the hope that the life of a Jedi would offer him greater promise than if he stayed.

And now he had come back to her, only to leave again.

The thought of it made something twist inside Obi-wan. He thought again of Padme, with her twins about to begin their own training in the Force. And Sabe, sitting beside him, enjoying this moment almost as much as he was. They had not talked about their future together yet. Obi-wan did not think he would be as good a father as Anakin, and probably as Kao-shi was, but if it came to that, he did not want to burden the woman he loved with the thought that their child might one day be taken from them.

"Ah, here we are," his father pulled out a hologram and flicked it on to reveal three young woman standing side-by-side.

The holo was about ten years old, according to the date at the bottom. Each of the women had sugary-blond hair like their brother's, and the same gray eyes they must have gotten from Yin-wei. They were each some years older than Obi-wan; the youngest had been six when their little brother was taken away.

Reading that in the Archival records, Anakin had laughed. He said he could not imagine Obi-wan as the baby in the family. Though over ten years separated he and Skywalker, over time that difference hadn't mattered to Obi-wan, and he had never wondered if Anakin silently attached "big" or "elder" to his label of brother when he thought of Kenobi. He realized now that it felt very different to be considered the "little" sibling.

"They're beautiful," Sabe said.

Kao-shi beamed. "Thank you. This one here is Med-wyn. If we had known you were coming, she and the others wouldn't have gone to the capital to shop. We sent word you were here, but I don't know if they'll be back before you leave."

"We could stay," Obi-wan offered suddenly. He looked to Sabe, who nodded eagerly, then looked to his parents. "We could get a place in town, and stay a night or two. I'm sure the Alliance will understand."

"If you are going to stay for a few days," Yin-wei replied, sounding a touch stern, "you will stay here in this house."

Such a surge of emotion rose up in his chest, all Obi-wan could do was smile and nod.

"Wonderful!" Kao-shi bellowed, looking like he was about to jump out of his seat. "My love, send word to the capital, and to the rebel cell stationed on planet! Maybe Eri and Aly will come home as well!"

"Which on is Eri-gan, and Aly-anya?" He asked, looking again at the holo.

"That's Eri-gan," his mother replied, pointing at the middle sister. "She runs her own shop in the capital. We had…something of a falling out after the collapse of the Republic, and she hasn't been home in a while."

He had a sister that was for the Empire? That was something Obi-wan's hadn't expected. He wondered if meeting her was such a good idea.

"Not to worry, not to worry!" Kao-shi interjected, looking anything but delighted since they had first met. "Eri would never put politics before family. Please, say that you'll stay and meet her."

"Of course." But even as he said it, Obi-wan had a feeling that he and this sister would not get along. The Force told him Eri-gan learning he and Sabe were on-planet would lead to trouble.

"And this is our Aly-anya," Yin-wei continued. If she knew of her son's concerns, she said nothing about it. "Like you, she is a member of a rebel cell, working here in the system."

"She was the one with a Force-sensitive child."

"Yes. Little Ari-mara." Kao-shi continued to look deeply upset. "When Med-wyn realized one of her sons, Dan-sen, was Force-sensitive, she refused to send him to the Jedi for training. She was old enough when you were taken to remember what that felt like, and couldn't give up one of her own. But Aly, she lost her husband in the wars. There was no knowing when the Separatists would be defeated, and she believed the Jedi Temple would be the safest place for her daughter. We didn't know the Jedi Order had been destroyed until it was too late."

The room was quiet for a moment. Obi-wan didn't know how much his parents knew about Anakin's involvement in the destruction of the Jedi, or if they even considered him in some way to blame for what happened. Images of the ruins that had been the Jedi Temple flashed through his mind, and he wondered if his niece had been among the younglings slain in their cribs.

"We're very proud of you, son," Kao-shi broke in, causing Obi-wan to look up in surprise. The old man had tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. "What you've done to keep this galaxy together, what you're doing now to try and put the pieces back together. The life you've built for yourself. I'm sure there have been some hard moments, but in the end, I think this galaxy has been blessed to have you. Giving you up was hard. But I think now it was the right thing to do."

Obi-wan sat for a moment, looking at his man who was so different from him. In his heart, he had always thought of Qui-gon as the only father, the only parent, he would ever need.

But looking at these two people, the strong-willed Yin-wei who seemed to understand him and the compassionate Kao-shi, he was grateful he had come here.

"Thank you," he replied, his voice suddenly rough. He hesitated, but something in him needed the word to be spoken aloud. "Father."

"Father?" The intense expression on Kao-shi's face melted away in another great, rumbling laugh. "My girls all call me 'Papa.'"

"You can call us whatever you want," Yin-wei looked to her son, meeting his eye before adding, "Obi-wan."

He was about the reply when a shift in the Force caught his attention. Reacting instinctively, Obi-wan stood, facing the door that was behind his parents, hand on the hilt of his saber. Sabe, battle-ready as ever, rose almost at the same time, but didn't draw her blaster.

"What is it?"

"Someone's here."

Kao-shi looked inquisitively up at his wife. "My love? Did you invite company?"

"No," she replied, her eyes turned sharp as steel. Obi-wan expected her to move behind her husband, who had now risen to face the door as well, but instead, his mother stepped forward, placing herself between the door and the others. It reminded him of Padme, and her maternal instincts, and a sudden rush of unexpected and untimely love for this woman rose up in him.

Then the wooden door to the kitchen crashed open.

"Dan-sen?!" Despite the tension in the room a moment earlier, Kao-shi broke into another bright smile and raised his arms in welcome. "Welcome home, boy! I was hoping our message would reach you in time! This is your uncle, and his darling partner, here for a visit!"

The young man looked to be about Anakin's age. He was broad-shouldered like his grandfather, with the same flaxen hair. He looked flushed, as though he had raced a great distance, only to come stock-still in the doorway of his grandparent's kitchen.

He stood staring at Obi-wan. His eyes traveled from the Jedi's face, to his tunic, to the lightsaber Obi-wan had relinquished hold of, to his cloak neatly folded on the bench behind him.

"Well, boy! Come here, make them welcome!"

His grandfather's booming voice didn't break Dan-sen's concentration in the least. He took a step forward, then another, until he was right in front of his uncle.

Then he bent to the floor and knelt.

"Master Kenobi. It is an honor."

Shocked, Obi-wan stepped back, bumping to Sabe, who looked just about as stunned as he did. Across the room, Kao-shi was chuckling at the sight, but Yin-wei just sighed in a long-suffering manner before explaining to her son, "This is your nephew, Dan-sen. He wants to be trained as a Jedi."

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:D Hope you liked,

Caslia


	3. Goodbye, Thanatia

Force help me, I've already started thinking about what the next fic that I want to right. A part of me is relieved to finally be working on the last few posts of the Rebirth of the Light series; another part has apparently been silently plotting my continued enslavement. It's going to be another fic about Darth Vader / Anakin Skywalker and Company, because – well – that's just who I am. Lightsaber duels, dogs fights in space, intrigue, politics, back-stabbing, the possibility of redemption, a touch of the supernatural and plenty of angst and internal conflict to go around. In other words, more intense and less introspective than this fic has been. I'm terribly psyched. Fear not, faithful readers, I will finish this one before beginning another. :P I learned my lesson from when I started this one and watched The Sibling Series slowly die from neglect.

Glad everyone liked the scene with the Kenobis. We will hear more about Dan-sen, brought up in conversation as a key player but rarely actually present in the post. This next scene is also relatively recent, only a year after the destruction of the Death Star. As the story picks up speed, we will jump years, so check the top of each post to see where we are in the time line.

This post is very epilogue-ish, so please forgive it for not being as fun as the last one. It's just kind of a "moving on" piece to answer some questions, so you're not later wondering, "hey, what happened to…"

* * *

Seven years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

"Once upon a time," Anakin muttered to himself as he stood in the dim light of the empty garage that had served as a workshop. The shelves around him had once been laden with droid parts and bits of machinery. Until recently, there had been a desk in one of the corners, where he had constructed a new lightsaber. There was the socket Artoo had plugged into every night. And over there, where he and Luke had worked on the thrusters of the family speeder.

The shop was empty now, all the droid parts taken to the base so the mechanics there could make use of them. The desk, along with the rest of the furniture, had been handed off to the locals. There was only one thing left here that he needed.

Anakin lifted the box from the bottom shelf where he had placed it so many years ago. It was lighter than he remembered, and despite the painful memories he associated with it, he smiled. It was the last thing in the house he would be taking with him.

But they were leaving so much behind, as well.

"Anakin? Are you coming?" Padme's asked from the doorway.

With the box tucked under his arm, Anakin glanced around the workshop a final time before walking back into the hallway and palming the door shut behind him.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the box he carried. Anakin opened the lid to show her. His wife stared in surprise before reaching in and running a hand over the hard, familiar contours. "You're bringing it with you?"

"I can't leave it here."

Padme closed the lid and stepped to the side to take her husband's free hand. They walked together down the hallway, past the room that had been Obi-wan's, and the room that had served as their meditation chamber. Every room was empty now, except for the memories they harbored.

It was hard to leave, but they both acknowledged it was time to go.

The Alliance was pushing further into the Mid Rim as more and more planets joined their cause. In time, the base on Thanatia would hold only a handful of personnel.

In turn, the Skywalkers had also chosen to leave the planet they had called home for the past seven years.

"We don't have to do this one," Anakin offered when Padme balked at the next set of rooms, "if you don't want to."

"We should say goodbye," she replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "Some of the best moments of our lives happened in these rooms."

"And some of the worst," he pointed out, grinning. "Remember when you came in to find Leia with Obi-wan's lightsaber in her mouth?"

"Poor Obi-wan," Padme sighed as she palmed the door to enter what had been her children's nursery. "For weeks he was afraid to be around the twins unsupervised."

The room still managed to look the same even though all signs of Luke and Leia's childhood had been removed. Sunlight glittered in through the windows and cast patterns on the floor were the twins had played, napped, taken their first steps. Whoever eventually made this their home would have to repaint the walls – the twins had left colored handprints along bottom.

It was their children's room, and as Anakin looked around, he thought it might also be the sight of his own redemption as well. Endless days of laughter and small kindnesses within this sunlit space had dissolved the shadows around his heart. He could still remember the pain of being unable to sooth his infant daughter as the storm raged outside, of Sabe passing their tiny bodies to his black-gloved, trembling hands.

"They were so small," he murmured, feeling tears rise up to cloud his vision. "Do you remember when they were that small?"

"Of course," Padme replied, her voice cracking. She leaned in against Anakin and sniffled. "And now, they're a pair of hyperactive, self-assured kids about to no longer need us."

"They'll always needs us on some level," he assured her, even as he felt the same worry building in him. He knew regardless of how old his children became, no matter what his son and daughter did with their lives or how far they strayed from his protective reach, a part of him would surely always need them. "Besides, their training will take care of their hyperactivity."

Padme laughed, and brushed aside an escaped tear. "I fear for the Jedi placed in charge of the older younglings. Surely only a mother could put up with their antics."

Actually, so far there had only been good reports from the Jedi in charge of the younglings the twin's age. One knight had been so bold as to remark that given their parentage, they had expected nothing but trouble from the Skywalker children. Clearly, they had not expected to be put in charge of two mature seven-year-olds with battle experience.

The Jedi Council, with Obi-wan and Anakin making up nearly a fourth of their number, had decided the new means for dealing with Jedi children, and children of Jedi. No longer would children be taken from their families at so young an age. In most cases, they would wait till the child had developed a strong enough Force ability to require training. That meant that many of the younglings from the Old Order that had ended up in the Agriculture Crops because their connection with the Force had not been strong enough to train under a master could live out their lives as they chose. Those wanting training when they grew older, such as Dan-sen, could seek out a master.

Children that were powerful enough to be trained would begin their lessons around the twin's age, and would be allowed to return and visit their families periodically. When one of the masters raised the question about loyalty to the Order and the Republic, Anakin had been quick to remind them that the Jedi Order was no longer bound to any one government. The Jedi of the new Order would be trained to serve the people of the galaxy, and not politicians. Strong relations with their families would make them more sympathetic to those they served. The proposition had faults, and Skywalker had no doubt there would be problems later on for Jedi raised in this manner, but for the time being, it would have to do. This was a time of rebuilding, after all, and they were allowed to make mistakes if those mistaken eventually led to discovering a better method.

"I miss them already," Padme complained as she walked around the room, touching the walls and looking out the windows one last time. "They've only been training for a few weeks now, and already I want them back. Am I being selfish?"

"No," Anakin chuckled. "But if you think this is bad, just wait till they begin training under a master, and go gallivanting around the galaxy."

"Yes, but at least I'll know they're under yours and Obi-wan's care." She rejoined him at the door and let out a deep sigh. "They're only seven, Ani. And they're training to be warriors."

"They're training to be Jedi," he assured her, looking longingly around the room. "We always knew they would. The Force is too strong in either of them to go untrained. Luke's abilities with the Force are…well, he makes my title of Chosen One look like it came from a Force-blind Corellian fortune teller. And I can sense Leia will be a leader one day, in tune with the Force in ways her brother is not. It's time they began their training. We're doing the right thing."

"I know. I just wish they could stay children forever. I wish we could just stay here, and be happy forever."

"We can be happy wherever we go, as long as we have each other."

He meant it as a reassurance, but Anakin didn't need the Force to know times ahead would not always be as easy as they had living here on Thanatia. The box under his arm was a reminder of the challenges they would face, and the sacrifices that might be required of them.

Already they each had heavy responsibilities to tend to.

Master Yoda had announced that while he was the most senior among the Jedi Masters, he would not be taking the position of head of the council. It was probably a good choice, as anyone could see the wear the last few years had had on him. A part of Anakin knew that was his fault, but he had left his guilt behind him now, and instead felt grateful that in his last years, Yoda would not have to shoulder the burden of directing the Order.

That duty fell, with no surprise, to Master Kenobi. Obi-wan had been unsure at first whether or not to take the position. After all, he had recently taken on the belated training of his nephew, Dan-sen Weken. The young man had proved well-versed in Jedi philosophy and techniques, as well as having trained himself in the Order's habits and history. He was everything the Jedi of the old Order would have considered ideal, lacking only in the direct use of the Force. This was what Obi-wan hoped to teach Dan-sen.

But in a private conversation with his friend, Kenobi had confessed to Anakin of seeing Master Qui-gon while on Urteau, and of the things they had spoken about. Obi-wan had taken seriously the charge of leading the Order, and of making the necessary changes they were now implementing. Thus Obi-wan holding the position of Council leader was in their best interests.

Anakin had laughed, and accused his brother of having become the very thing he had long despised: a politician.

Obi-wan had not taken well to the jest.

Anakin's place within the Order was less certain, though he too now sat on the Council. Even after a year, he spent the majority of his time on missions alongside Sabe and other Alliance agents. It seemed he had taken over the role of Jedi ambassador to the Alliance, which actually was just fine with him, since Padme had returned to a role that required her to spend time with the High Council.

The unfolding situation on Urteau had upset her. Padme had fought against corruption in the Republic and tyranny from the Empire. She was not about to let the Rebel Alliance go the same way. His wife, forever the believer in justice, had taken on the role of mediator between the High Council and planets that offered their services or allegiance, to ensure they were treated fairly.

"You don't suppose it's too late to decline, do you?" Padme asked.

"You don't really mean that. As sad as we both are that Luke and Leia are growing up, I know we're both eager to watch their lives unfold." Anakin pulled her from the room and with a heavy heart, Padme palmed the door shut.

The sunlight continued to stream into the hallway from the windows that lined the hall, and together they passed from beam to beam. Outside was the garden, overflowing with flowers and memories. Beyond that, the grassy hills, where Anakin and Obi-wan had practiced their lightsaber techniques, stretched on to the horizon.

"A shame we didn't get to have the ceremony here." Padme remarked. "It would have been so lovely. I could have prepared a banquet, and decorated the entire garden with ribbons." She raised an eyebrow as her husband fought a smirk. "What?"

"I think that's why Obi-wan and Sabe had their ceremony elsewhere. To keep it simple. They were afraid that since you didn't get to have the perfect wedding, you would go all-out for them. Sabe said she could see that gleam in your eye when they announced they were going to take vows as life partners."

His wife managed to look offended and sheepish. "That gleam was from tears of joy!"

Anakin wisely said nothing.

"And my wedding was _perfect_, thank you very much."

"Sometimes, I feel like our life together started right here," Anakin said as they came around the corner. They stood in the doorway of their bedroom, also empty, with nothing but the sunlight filling it. Anakin left the box sitting in the hallway and walked into the center of the room, turning in a slow circle as he recalled his first time in it. "Sometimes, I like to imagine we got married on Naboo, then came here. Nothing that happened in between ever happened."

"It happened," Padme replied, without looking unhappy. "But it doesn't matter that it did. I'll never forget seeing you come through that door. Everyone kept telling me that I had lost you. That I could cry and plead and wish as much as I wanted, and nothing would come of it. And then, just as our children were about to be born, there you were."

Her husband shook his head in amazement. "You know, I think I had my saber drawn." He turned to look at her, amazement rather than pain glimmering in his eyes. It had been a long time since Padme had seen that in Anakin when he spoke of the past. It was a relief to put that behind them. "Can you believe I did that? What had I been thinking?"

"I was crying out in pain. You had no way of knowing I was in labor. You were simply racing to my rescue, as you had all the times before."

"You married a fool, you know that, don't you?" he was teasing her, and Padme laughed as she joined him in the center of the room, basking in the sunlight. They stood where the bed had been, in the exact place where they had held their children for the first time. The years behind them seemed to fall away, just as Anakin had wished they would years ago. The darkness that had haunted them vanished in the light of everything they had known since, and the years stretched out before them with the promise of so much more.

Together, they left the room, not looking back as the door swished shut. Anakin paused to pick up the box.

They walked through the remainder of the house, through the common room and the kitchen, taking a final look around what had been the happiest of homes. They walked out through the back, through the garden and towards the rolling hills. In the distance, on the crest where years ago Anakin had landed his Imperial shuttle, a ship sat waiting for them.

When they reached it, Padme looked back, and Anakin stopped with her, their fingers entwined.

"We're never coming back, are we?"

"No. Probably not. Unless we one day decide we're done with all this saving-the-galaxy stuff, and need a place to retire."

Padme heaved a sigh. "Considering the galaxy always seems to be in some sort of peril, that is unlikely."

The boarding ramp of the ship lowered with ease as they approached. All the hinges had been oiled recently, the wires replaced, the sockets tightened. Every inch of the ship had undergone meticulous maintenance, the love for this stalwart vessel seen especially in the cocky swagger of her captain as he came down to greet them.

"What you go there, Skywalker?" Han inquired of the box.

Anakin opened it so he could see.

"Vader's helmet – I mean, your helmet?! I wouldn't have thought you'd still have that. What're you going to do with it?"

"I don't know yet," Anakin replied truthfully, staring down at the black mask inside the crate. It had long since lost its sheen, having been untended for some years now, left to gather dust in the workshop with other mechanical contraptions since his surgery. But the shape of it was familiar, and it no longer seemed as frightening as it had. The years he had worn it on Thanatia greatly outnumbered the months Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, had terrorized the galaxy.

Now it seemed to Anakin that the dark eyes were staring up at him from within the box as though they were pleading with him. He didn't know quite what they were saying – if the mask was asking not to be left behind, or maybe simply not to be forgotten.

He wasn't sure what to do with it now. Anakin only knew it was a part of himself he couldn't leave behind, or destroy.

With a gentle touch, he closed the box and tucked it back under his arm. With his free hand, he entwined his fingers with his wife's, and together, they boarded the ship.

* * *

A little romantic mush in this one, between both Anakin/Padme and Obi-wan/Sabe. Hey, it's almost Valentine's Day, right? It's allowed.

Hope you enjoyed. On to more adventure in the next post.

Caslia


	4. Life on the Run

**Erin-12/Monica**: Sorry, I probably could have explained that better. Anakin was hurt by the thought that families around the galaxy were kind of being used by the Jedi Order to provide them with Force-potential children. Of all the Jedi, it just strikes me that Anakin, who had the worst experience of being separated from his mother, would take the greatest offense at this. I wasn't hinting at anything. (However, just as I have the Kenobi clan running around my rather crowded brain, I will confess I have a "Anakin is not, in fact, fatherless" storyline as well, that deviates tremendously from the "Palpatine is Anakin's father" and "Qui-gon is Anakin's father" fics that are out there, involving a "Dark Jedi" Order in the Unknown Regions. However, that story will probably never be written.) I can't believe you reread all of Rebirth of the Light! I'm touched!

I am having a hard time choosing between the different ideas for my next fic. I've got three that just excite me to no end (I am easily excitable before the real work begins and I realize what I've gotten myself into.) So I'm thinking that I will post the teasers up on my profile. Then you, faithful readers, can help me decide.

So, the questions about the house on Thanatia, the mask, and the condition of the _Falcon_ have all been answered. This post touches on the developments in the galactic civil war. And hey, whatever happened to those kids those OC Jedi knights rescued from the Imperial Palace?

* * *

Nine years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

Even though Sabe knew pretending like she wasn't scared was pointless around a group of Force-sensitives, still she felt it was her place to at least appear like she thought everything would turn out alright.

Of course, there was no guarantee that it would – quite the opposite, in fact.

"It's going to be okay."

Sabe turned, as much as she could in the cramped space, with her knees tucked up under her chin, to smile reassuringly at the child beside her. "I know, sweetheart."

Eleven-year-old Mara, just one of the hundred Jedi younglings Sabe had volunteered to see safely to Alderaan, narrowed her jade eyes in response.

"No, you don't."

Some of the other children around them, most younger than Mara, shifted nervously. They huddled together in the tight space of the smuggling compartment, holding hands and probably reaching out to each other through the Force. Occasionally, one would cast a glance upwards, as though seeing the events taking place outside the compartment, maybe even beyond the ship. The majority kept their eyes riveted on Sabe.

She wasn't a Master, much less a Jedi, but she was one of the only two adults onboard, and that made her their one and only source of comfort. Now was not the time for her emotions to be rife with turmoil. But it seemed there was little she could do about that, other than the occasional breathing exercise Obi-wan had taught her.

In three counts…hold for three counts…out three counts…hold for three counts…

Given the way her heart was racing, her fingers itching to feel the secure weight of a weapon in her hands, the exercise only made her dizzy.

Her husband would be so exasperated with her right now. All those hours of meditation and exercises, Obi-wan carefully explaining forms and techniques to her, and one experience of sheer terror erased the entirety of her training. The Force was her ally, but she could not access it, being naturally blind it to awesome power. That left her innate wits, her training as an agent and spy, and the blaster and lightsaber she carried, one on each hip.

The saber had been an anniversary gift from Obi-wan, to celebrate their two years together. If she had known he was going to give her something so spectacular, Sabe would have come up with something for him better than a pair of new boots – to be fair, his old pair had certainly seen better days. Regardless, her gift had definitely been lacking in the romance department. But Obi-wan had somehow found the time to construct a lightsaber, and had made a return trip to Urteau without her knowing of it to obtain the dark amethyst crystals for it.

He had presented it to her after a day spent teasing Anakin about how Kenobi's wife could apparently wield a lightsaber better than the Chosen One. From Skywalker's easy acceptance of his brother's taunts, Sabe later discerned he had been in on the surprise.

The weapon had served her well on her scouting missions for the Alliance. The sight of it hanging from her hip had certainly made any unfriendlies she encountered think twice about taking her on.

Obi-wan had never said anything that suggested he thought of her as being less for not having access to the Force; he had simply taken her through the training alongside Dan-sen as a means of providing his most beloved with an extra set of skills that might one day save her life. But as Sabe now sat in the cramped, dark confines of the smuggling compartment, awaiting the disaster she knew this encounter would become, she felt useless.

It was her job to protect these children, and in a matter of moments, she might very well fail them.

"Stop that."

Sabe turned again to the red-headed, precocious girl crushed up against her side. Mara had her hands clenched into fists on top of her knees, glaring at the compartment lid like she might burn a hole through it. She didn't appear as frightened as the other children, but then, her experiences before coming to the Jedi had probably taught her that fear, or at least showing that fear, was a waste.

"You have to stay focused," she whispered, her green eyes flicking to Sabe before snapping back to the darkness above them. Her voice had a dangerous edge to it. "They can feel what you feel, and it's not helping."

Sabe didn't know if the girl meant the children around them and those stuffed into the other holds, or the Imperials waiting just beyond the ship.

This mission had been categorized as high risk, but otherwise was relatively simple. Increasing conflict between the Alliance and Imperial fleet had led to Imperial spies committing sabotage. It was agreed that moving non-combat personnel to planets with rebel sympathies was the best option. Among these were the Jedi younglings, and Sabe had felt it her duty to assist in the effort.

A trip aboard the _Falcon_ had seemed like just another familiar jaunt across the galaxy, only with a ship-full of would-be-Jedi running around the hold and lounge. Han had dealt with the madness admirably, but had remarked Chewie had made the right choice to decline the honor of this particular mission.

The Star Destroyers waiting for them when they came out of hyperspace had been an unwelcoming reminder that this was no joyride. In a matter of seconds after being hailed by the Imperials, Solo had stashed Sabe and their precious cargo in the _Falcon's_ smuggling holds.

And now, she could do nothing but wait, as the _Falcon_ shuddered in the grip of the larger vessel's tractor beam. Before too long, they would be in the docking bay of an Imperial ship, vulnerable and potentially exposed if the ship was scanned for lifeforms other than her captain.

"How is Captain Solo? Can you sense him?" Not that there was much Sabe could do for him. The _Falcon_ was registered in his name, which meant he was the one the Imperials would question while Sabe was expected to remain hidden with the children.

It gnawed at her to know she had left a sixteen-year-old – a _friend_ – up there alone.

"He's doing better than you are," Mara remarked. At least she kept her voice low. "We're through the atmosphere shield. There are troopers waiting in the hanger; as soon as the ship sets down, they intend to board."

"How many?"

The child gave her a look. It was the kind of expression Sabe occasionally received from Obi-wan when she asked something he found to be unrelated to the topic of conversation. "We're on a Star Destroyer, Agent Kenobi."

It seemed unlikely ships from the Imperial fleet had been "just passing by" the Alderaanian system just as the _Falcon_ and other cargo vessels were coming out of hyperspace. Sabe had little doubt the Imperial spies within rebel ranks could be thanked for this. Her only relief was that the Skywalker twins had been aboard a separate ship, that group of younglings guarded by Jedi Knights.

That flicker of relief faded as the ship lurched under them. They had landed in the docking bay, and Sabe could hear the ominous sound of the ramp lowering.

She felt movement at her side and glanced down.

Mara had slipped Sabe's saber from her belt almost without her noticing it. The girl hadn't ignited the weapon, but clenched it in a death grip in front of her, ignoring the shocked looks of the other children. Behind the curtain of red hair, her bottom lip trembled.

For all her bravado, she was still just a little girl.

"Mara, sweetheart. You're right, we have to stay focused. We have to be strong. And right now, you're scaring the others." Actually, a few of the younglings looked reassured at the sight of the lightsaber. But this wasn't really helping the situation.

The clanking of stormtrooper boots echoed down from above, the whining of blasters warming up. Sabe silently prayed they were set for stun.

"I'm not going back," Mara whispered, her voice remaining strong till the last word, when it cracked. "I'm not going back there."

Somewhere in the distance, probably from the cockpit so he was as far away from the compartments as possible, Han was speaking in light tones. Sabe tried to imagine him, casually leaning against the back of the pilot's seat, arms crossed. He would be polite, unconcerned, with just a touch of infamous spacer cockiness. _You_ _go ahead, sir_, he's telling them, _search the ship. Won't find nothing but some cargo I got hired to take planet-side._ Be brave, she wished him, for all our sakes.

"I'm not going back."

Gently, Sabe reached over and laid her hand on top of the child's where they clasped the saber. For a moment, Mara resisted, probably thinking the agent was going to take it from her. But Sabe just wrapped her fingers around hers and gave a squeeze.

Across from them, one of the younglings jumped. "They hit him."

Of Force, oh Force! Sabe wasn't sure what she was praying for: that Han wasn't hurt too badly; that he kept his cool and didn't strike back. She just kept her hand over Mara's and her eyes locked on the other younglings.

Boots passed overhead. Orders and information were issued in the electric buzz of trooper voices. Beside her, Mara began to shudder.

Obi-wan. She thought of Obi-wan, and his smile. She could almost feel his presence through the lightsaber.

They had decided against children. It had been the logical decision, given the lives they led. Obi-wan had said they should keep their hearts open, to embrace all the children of the galaxy. That meant the younglings in her care were her children, the girl silently weeping beside her was her daughter.

There were voices directly overhead, muffled enough that Sabe couldn't understand the actual words. But it didn't matter. She had found that focus, that clarity she had been looking for.

In for three counts…hold for three counts…

Her hand tightened around the saber and, unexpectedly, Mara let her take it.

Out three counts…hold three counts…

Her thumb was over the ignition. If that compartment lid opened, she would be out before the troopers could see inside. Sabe would take out as many as she could. She would race for the cockpit, get them off the hanger floor, aim for the exit, and pray the Force was with her to avoid getting caught in another tractor beam.

And then, as one, the younglings around her relaxed.

The echo of boots receded, the voices faded away. After a moment, there was the whirl of the ramp closing, and Sabe felt her entire body collapse with relief.

She needed to get up there. She needed to check on Han, make sure he hadn't been beaten up too badly. Ask if they had received permission to continue with their landing on Alderaan. But for right now, all she could do was lean back in the tiny space allotted her in the smuggling compartment and breathe.

Fingers curled around her arm. Sabe raised it and Mara leaned up against her, hiding her face and shaking violently. The other children sighed, but didn't break the still-tense quiet.

She considered the lightsaber momentarily, before resting it in the girl's lap. Sabe was no Jedi, after all, but this daughter of hers was. If it brought her even the smallest sense of comfort and security, it belonged with Mara.

Obi-wan would be pleased.

* * *

Hope you liked. I wanted to play with Sabe's comment about wanting a lightsaber from an earlier chapter, and it just fit so well with what was happening in this post.

Just a note on Obi-wan/Sabe relationship: you'll notice she took his last name, which I was really torn about because of my views on marriage and partnership. I don't feel like people put as much emphasis on the ritual of marriage in the galaxy as we do in real life, so I've been very torn about how to explain their relationship without going into too much detail. So other than writing a post about the ceremony (which I didn't want to do, because I was worried about getting preachy about my take on organized religion and ritualize commitment between two people) I just went with the basics that we are all familiar with.

Next chapter: the Darkside! A lightsaber duel!...Ghosts?

It's my birthday on Monday, and I am finally old enough to understand why that isn't something to celebrate. :P

Caslia


	5. Alter Ego

Thank you for all the b-day wishes! :D Since I can't seem to force cake into my disk drive, would you accept another post instead?

I cannot explain the science behind this new planet. I vaguely recall things from my high school classes – years later, I wonder why so much emphasis is put on things like physics and algebra in middle level education; it's not like we remember any of it unless we continue to study it in university – that make this environment potentially viable, but I'll be the first comment that I didn't work very hard on trying to convince you of that. It just made a really interesting setting, and I found the sentence "on the plus side, it made his incredibly buoyant" simply too amusing to not try and cram in somewhere.

* * *

Eleven years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

Not for the first time, Anakin wished he hadn't been so rash as to run off alone.

At the last possible second, he ducked beneath the sizzling red lightsaber blade that came down towards him in a brilliant arch. The swing was meant to separate his much-needed cranium from the rest of him, but the move was one he had used a thousand times, and he'd seen it coming well in advance. His defensive move had upset his balance, however, and his heel slide off the edge of the hovering rock shelf.

His opponent moved in with Force-enhanced speed to take advantage. Without hesitation, Anakin pushed himself off the edge, away from the blade that would have otherwise run him through, and glided off into the purple haze that was the planet's toxic atmosphere.

His momentum took him about twenty meters down and away. Within a single drag of clean air from the breather over his nose and mouth, Anakin had his feet firmly planted on another of the hovering shelves, saber raised.

In an instant, the Sith was on him again.

Their sabers clashed, sparks flying like miniature reflections of the lightning that rained down all around them. Crimson met azure in a flash before swinging away again. Barely three meters across, the shelf made for a precautious battleground.

"Bet you wish Obi-wan was here to save you."

Anakin glared at the other. Eyes ablaze with the power of the Darkside stared back at him as their blades crossed again, bringing the two men in close.

"Bet you do, too." Skywalker replied evenly.

The Sith snarled, broke the contact with a push that sent him flying off. The shelf teetered at the sudden uneven distribution of weight, momentarily forcing Anakin to his knees. When he looked up, the Sith had disappeared into the flash of lightning.

But he wasn't far off. Anakin could feel him, could sense him in a way he could sense no other Force user, not even his own children. It made him shudder at the intimacy of their contact, the way they each knew the saber techniques of the other, could anticipate action before it was more than thought. The two of them had been at this for hours now – months, if Anakin counted how long he had been following this creature of Darkness across the galaxy. Or it had been following him.

No, he should certainly have not come alone.

With a quiet anger building inside him, Anakin braced himself, then pushed off and let the diminished gravity of the planet carry him up and after his opponent.

They were alone here, the planet not boasting a single city, natural inhabitant or even an out-of-the-way stop for spacers. It made sense, considering the planet was really nothing more than a jumble of constantly-shifting shelves of rocks, their basic elemental makeup giving them enough push to resist the pull of the planet's highly magnetic core. The farther down, the denser the shelves got, till they became plates, similar to those found under the oceans and landmasses of other planets. They ground against each other occasionally, the pieces that broke away floating up to create the numerous individual shelves that Anakin now flew past.

The minimal atmosphere was provided by the heavy cloud cover that essentially smothered the planet, but was toxic to just about any living being other than mynocks and other space-inhabiting creatures. The highly ionized air, the constant lightening strikes, and the minimal gravity made the planet literally uninhabitable.

On the plus side, it made him incredibly buoyant.

Arms outstretched as he bounded from shelve to shelve, Anakin attempted to peer through the mist, hunting for just a glimpse of that familiar figure. As closely tied as they were through the Force, and able to anticipate the other's move in direct battle, Anakin had a hard time interpreting his opponent's over-all plan.

Infiltrate the Alliance, then vanish having caused only minor confusion. Spend weeks among the Jedi in the Mid Rim, but left before being discovered as an imposter. Appear at the head of the Empire on Coruscant, claiming the throne as Palpatine's heir, throwing Anakin's life into utter chaos, then coming to this wayward planet after inviting Skywalker to meet him here. It bordered on madness – and given the means by which the Sith was engineered, it was entirely possible he was insane – but the erratic behavior hindered Anakin rather than giving him an advantage.

"You can't hide forever," he called out. It came out as a harsh buzz from his vocoder, sounding so similar to the tones his voice had taken on when wearing a helmet years ago that Anakin was momentarily disorientated.

Which one was he? The Sith, or the Jedi?

Then his opponent was upon him again, barreling out of the clouds, saber clasped in a two-handed hold above his head. The other's searing presence, radiating an uncontrollable fury, burned away Anakin's momentary confusion. Grinding his teeth, he met the force of the swing with a block, then pulled away to kick out.

But the Sith was already flying up, somersaulting higher than would have been possible in any other environment, and landed softly. The Jedi was there to meet him, a swipe of his azure blade nearly slicing the other clean through.

But of course, Anakin's opponent had anticipated that, and nearly managed to take off Skywalker's hand in a quick block.

"You can't beat me," the other hissed, his voice a ghost from the past. "I command the Darkside. I am more powerful than you."

"Save your oxygen," Anakin ground out. "I've heard it before." He bounded halfway across the shelf before turning and flying over the Sith's lunge, trailing wisps of mist after him.

A slight miscalculation in trajectory carried him past the edge of the shelf, and back out into the air. In a flutter of black, the other followed.

For a moment, Anakin simply flew. He had enough distance between him and the Sith that he wasn't worried about mid-air confrontation. So he clipped his saber to his belt, stretched out his arms, and enjoyed the moment, even as he angled to land on the shelf coming up under him.

The landing was made softer than usual as he used the momentum to his advantage, pushing off with just the palms of his hands as they connected with the shelf.

The angle and the force of his shove carried him feet-first back towards the Sith, who was only a step behind him. Anakin's boots made a satisfying thud as they connecting with his opponent's face, but the force was not enough to damage the face mask.

In a flash, Anakin rolled up and away, regaining his balance and on the offensive.

His opponent groaned, half-kneeling with his back turned. He reached up to adjust his breather, then laughed. In the otherwise silent pause between thunderous bursts of lightening, it was chilling.

"Good one, Anakin."

"You're not so bad yourself."

Skywalker waited, giving the other time to rise to his feet and face him. "I don't understand why you're doing this." Anakin said, unclipping the saber from his belt, but not igniting it. The other was unarmed.

The Sith watched the movement carefully, familiar featured tense with concentration. His saber had deactivated as it flew out of his grip, and fallen a little ways away. A few steps to the right, but closer to the Jedi, and he could grab it. No point using the Force – they were both so easily matched, like two magnets with the same polarity, that they would just bounce off each other if they both reached out and collided.

Sensing the Sith's intentions, Anakin took a step to his left, bringing him closer to the other's weapon.

His opponent smirked. "You would think, of all the beings in this galaxy, you would be the one who was able to grasp what I'm trying to accomplish. We're like brothers, after all."

Distracted, as the Sith probably knew he would be by a comment like that, Anakin halted in his advancement, grinding his teeth. "I understand that you are systematically managing to destroy the life it took me years to build from scratch. That's not something I appreciate. If you anything even resembling a-" he nearly choked on the word that was so out of place here, "a _brother_, you wouldn't be doing this."

The Sith took a step to the right, bringing him closer.

"How could I do anything else? I have no place in this galaxy, not if you're in it. And once you're gone, I can make my life into anything I want it." He took another step, and Anakin tensed. His voice was soft, confident. "I can be the Emperor, or a leader of the new Jedi Order." He paused in his advancement. Anakin's own eyes, tinged with the sickly yellow of the Darkness, stared back at Anakin, loving the turmoil he was creating in his counterpart. "Even Padme's husband, if I want."

Blue fire burst into life as Anakin's saber ignited. He sprang, the lack of gravity and his own power carrying him across the short space in an instant.

He had been expecting the other to use that small allotment of time to call the discarded lightsaber to his hand. Instead, the Sith stood his ground. His fist came up just as Anakin's saber was about to come down. It connected. His next breath found Anakin's face and shoulder grinding into the shelf, his body sliding across the surface.

He came to rest just short of the ledge.

His saber went tumbling over.

Cursing, Anakin rolled onto his back, preparing to shove up and be carried easily to his feet. But a boot came down on his chest, pressing hard on his chest and locking him in place.

His clone smiled sinisterly down at him.

"Come on, Anakin! You didn't honestly think you could _beat_ me did you?"

Anakin coughed, hoping to ease the weight of the boot if only a little. It pressed down harder instead, right on top of the hose that led back to his oxygen supply. "I was considering it."

His Darkside self shook his head in mock reproach. "That's denial for you. Or maybe you just felt superior to me. But Palpatine _made_ you, just as much as he made me. It didn't take test tubes and DNA samples, years of growing in a tank in one of his secret labs, but he made you just the same. The only difference is that I've got nothing from before the Darkness to tie me down, make me weak. Keep me from accomplishing everything I – _we_ – are capable of."

The lack of oxygen was starting to make Anakin lightheaded. He considered Force-pushing the other, but their evenly matched strength would make the effort redundant.

Distantly, a part of his mind wondered if this didn't answer all those psychological debates about whether or not a person's conscience was dictated by an innate sense of morality or a code of socially acceptable behavior. If he survived this, it would be something for him to bring up with Chewbacca. The Wookie had an interest in such perplexing questions that Anakin generally felt were of little concern.

It was definitely a concern now. Clearly, there was no negotiating with this unexpected product of Palpatine's deranged mind. How had the man meant to control _two_ Vaders? Or maybe he had simply meant to dispose of the original, injured one? No, a whole Vader would have been a more serious threat to him…

"You still with me, Anakin?"

Barely, Anakin thought, struggling against the onslaught of dizziness that had his thoughts off on random tangents. He had to pull it together, had to figure a way to get the clone off him, _had to get some air in his lungs_.

"Get up, Skywalker! What's the matter, can't you handle a simple Vader-wanna-be?"

"What?"

Anakin managed to lift his head just off the ground, though the effort made his temples pound. But that voice hadn't been his own – his clone's – and had come from farther back up the shelf.

"Good thing you had me to take out the Emperor. If this guy can take you out, this galaxy is doomed."

In the next flash of lightening, a form appeared. Standing in the center of the shelf, arms crossed and face hidden behind a Mandalorian mask, Fett watched as Anakin's clone reached down to strip off his predecessor's breather.

This was unexpected.

Master Qui-gon would have been a welcome, is unable to be very helpful, presence. And at least would be a rational spirit to see. But Boba Fett?

Clearly it was too late, the lack of oxygen having resulted in permanent brain damage. That was the only way to explain what he was seeing.

"Why do I have to keep saving you? Some Jedi you are."

"Shut up," Anakin managed, his brain too filled with fuzz to realize he had spoke aloud. It was so weak, though, that the other Anakin didn't seem to notice.

With a tilt of his helmet, Fett motioned to Anakin's means of salvation.

His opponent pulled the breather away from his face. "Anything in particular I should know, before I become Anakin Skywalker?"

The clone's face went from bemused triumph to anguish in the next instant. Anakin's mask snapped back in place, slamming his head down into the shelf again. Stars exploded behind his eyes, blinding him. Blood sprayed outward among bits of bone, showering Anakin as his opponent's chest burst open. The lightsaber, pulled with the last of Anakin's strength, went gliding off into the hazy atmosphere after having been catapulted through the body of the man who had wielded it.

His corpse collapsed onto the shelf.

Air rushed back into Anakin's lungs, and he sucked it in greedily, experiencing a moment of surreal déjà vu in which he was glad he wasn't required to breathe on his own right now. His vision was tinged with red from the blood splattered across his face, caught in his eyelashes.

With a shaking hand, he wiped his sight clear before leveling up to his elbows.

The clone rested beside him, all life gone from it. His own face, eyes now their usual sapphire, looked back at him, features clenched in a sudden death throe.

He wanted to feel pity for this being, this damaged replica of himself. It had been created by Palpatine for who knew what reason, awoken to a galaxy in the midst of war with no one who knew or cared about it, with no place or purpose. But the clone failed to engender those emotions of sympathy in Anakin. It had tried to take his life, both by replacing and killing him, and in doing so endangered everyone he cared about. Everyone the clone, by nature of being him, should have cared about.

But it was over now. And Skywalker could start rebuilding his life. Again.

"I'd offer you a hand, but I'm not corporeal."

Hesitantly, Anakin turned to regard the specter that still stood watching him.

"Are you just going to lay there?"

"No. Can't I take a moment to regroup?"

"The galaxy is falling apart around the edges. If those now in command of the Empire were willing to set this creation loose," Fett – or what at least _looked_ like Fett – gestured towards the fallen clone, "there's no time to catch your breath."

Carefully, still a little dizzy from his near-suffocation by murderous alter-ego, Anakin climbed to his feet, resting his palms on his knees. He was covered in gore – if he stopped to think how on some level it was all his blood, Anakin feared he might become hysterical – he ached from having spent hours in a duel with the ideal opponent, and he had lost yet another lightsaber. He would take a moment, regardless of what the ghost said.

"Thank you," he replied as he regained his composure.

"I couldn't have you be replaced. What a terrible waste of all my effort."

"You're not Fett, are you?" Anakin asked, rising to face his new companion. It shimmered in the light of another lightening strike, appearing blurry around the edges. "You're some sort of manifestation of the Force. An embodiment of it, somehow."

"How incredibly perceptive of you."

Anakin eyed the spirit, shaking his head slightly. "You're – um – not at all what I would have expected."

"I chose to appear in the bounty hunter's form. Therefore, I have also assumed his personality."

"Why?"

Even though he couldn't see the specter's face, Anakin got the sensation it was smiling.

"Fett _did_ save you, although indirectly. I thought he deserved his due." The mask turned, looking off into the mists. A previously more-or-less solid looking hand, now glowing a glimmering blue, pointed. "The shelf you left your ship on is in that direction."

"Thank you," he said again, truly meaning it this time. He considered the unique opportunity he was presented with. The conscious mind of the Force was standing before him. There was so much Anakin could ask. What did it take to maintain Balance; was the Force really the ally of the Jedi or was it unbiased in the seemingly constant conflict between Dark and Light? Had it really created him, and if so, was his destiny really his own, as Qui-gon had told him when the prophecy of the Chosen One had failed – or was he like the clone lying behind him, still a puppet even when there was no master to pull the strings?

But he didn't ask anything. To do so seemed like a pointless exercise in philosophical complexity. Any answer he got would just lead him to more questions, and the spirit was right: there was a galaxy out there in need of repair.

Instead, he just offered a nod in acknowledgement. Then Anakin leveled himself against the ledge of the shelf, and pushed off in the direction the Force had indicated.

First things first: he would need to build a new lightsaber, just in case Obi-wan wasn't so distracted by the whole two-Anakins-thing to lecture him about how a Jedi's weapon was his life. His friend was certainly right on that point.

* * *

That one was fun! :P

I know there are a lot of Anakin clone stories out there, during the OT or just after Vader's death, but I thought it would be funny to have the clone try out all of Anakin's different roles - rebel, Jedi, potential ruler of the galaxy - thus creating mass confusion.

Caslia


	6. Legacy

Hey hey! The teasers are up on my profile! The brief summaries are more or less what you would get as a tag under a published story title. Please check them out and let me know what you think.

**ObiBettina7**: THANK YOU SO MUCH for looking over the other version of this chapter. I really appreciated your input and your reassurances. I didn't end up going with that scenario - or the other six I started, got about a page into, and decided to scrap. The situation in the post you read over (the in-need-of-rescue theme) was too close to something else I have planned for later, and I never was able to write it so Obi-wan didn't seem to be blowing his top. Hopefully you will approve of this version as much or more than the one you looked over. :)

Not as many replies for that last one as I expected. :( Too bad; I really thought the whole set up – weird planet, Darkside Anakin clone, lightsaber battle in only partial gravity – was a lot of fun. **Jedi Knight 13, Erin-21, mlhkvh5**, where are you guys? You've left **ObiBettina7 **and **Jedi Angel001** to lead the pep squad all by themselves.

* * *

Thirteen years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

"Tea!" Obi-wan said, with unusual relish. "Tea will make it all better."

Fortunately, the Alderaanian manor temporarily serving as the living quarters for masters of the new Jedi Order was well stocked with any number of brands and flavors of the beverage. And he had the entire kitchen area all to himself, the choice of any number of cups, and the most comfortable seat in which to recline.

It had not been a particularly trying day. Nothing out of the usual had happened. The youngest of the Jedi younglings had scampered about the large courtyard, their older peers had attended classes, the knights had taken advantage of the good weather – the Alderaan countryside had a tendency to be gray and misty – to practice saber techniques outside.

Obi-wan was just glad to find a little personal time, away his responsibilities. He had always known that being the head of the Jedi Council was a difficult position, but he had never really imagined it would require him to put up with constantly being bombarded with other people's problems. Everything from lesson plans, to relationship protocol, to the ordering of supplies for the new Temple fell on his shoulders. The majority of it he could delegate to others, but Obi-wan's sense of duty just wouldn't allow it.

His comm. beeped.

Silently, Obi-wan groaned. So much for his quiet afternoon with a cup of tea. Maybe he would be lucky and it would be a message from Sabe. She and Anakin were off on another one of their missions. This time it was something about infiltrating Imperial High Command.

Obi-wan felt more comfortable about _not_ knowing what his wife and brother were up to, not if he couldn't be there to save them when things went poorly.

With a weary sigh, he answered the call. "Kenobi."

"Uncle Obi? Where are you?"

"Leia." Well, that certainly brightened his day. He would pass on a quiet afternoon in exchange for a little time with his niece. "I'm in the kitchen. Care to join me for a cup of tea?"

"I'll be right there."

She signed off and Obi-wan sat back in anticipation, a quiet smile lighting up his face. Leia was still a youngling, but she had come a long ways in the last few years, developing both power of and control over the Force. She and Luke had yet to be chosen by masters, but Obi-wan knew it wouldn't be long now. They were old enough now at thirteen, eager to learn, and willing to work hard to achieve their full potential.

Everything that made a good apprentice.

A slight frown creased his face as Obi-wan recalled his last apprentice.

Dan-sen had been very willing to learn, but only what he considered to be of importance or proper. There were times that Obi-wan had felt it was his nephew, rather than himself, who dictated their lessons. The young man had greatly disapproved of his master's marriage to Sabe. In Anakin's presence, he had been polite but obviously indifferent, despite Master Skywalker being his superior and occasional instructor. They were the same age, and Anakin far more experienced of the two, but Dan-sen seemed to consider Anakin's brief allegiance to the Darkside a permanent taint.

It turned out that where Obi-wan's teachings had been too conservative for Anakin during their time as master and apprentice, for Dan-sen it was his master who was too open-minded.

Their time together had been short, and sadly, Obi-wan had been grateful when it had ended. Their difference of opinion had resisted any attempts to form a bond, so when Dan-sen had been knighted, it was easy for Obi-wan to walk away.

He found it ironic that in honor of his famous uncle, Dan-sen had attached 'Kenobi' to the end of his name upon becoming a full Jedi.

Now Weken-Kenobi was on a mission to seek allies in the Hapes Cluster. For the sake of the Alliance, Obi-wan hoped for success, but he wasn't holding his breath.

He took a deep drag of tea to chase away the bitter thoughts. The warm liquid coursed through him, burning away the slight chill even warm days on Alderaan gave him. Obi-wan hoped it wasn't a sign he was getting old. Force help him, he was only forty-five, not a strand of gray in his hair, with an entire Order depending on him.

"Master Obi-wan?"

"Ah, Leia!" He rose from his seat as she entered, already feeling his weariness melting away. The sight of his niece was always like the sun coming out. She took after her mother, slight in build with dark brown hair tied in a long braid down her back. When she was older, the elder of the Skywalker twins would be a classic beauty, with a temper and passion for justice to match.

A moment later, another girl entered, her cool eyes scanning even this supposed-place of safety. There was nothing Mara Jade took for granted.

The fifteen-year-old was a sharp contrast to her best friend. Jade's coloring was bright, with her golden-red hair and the green eyes that had determined her last name. Where Leia was slight, Mara had a dancer's muscular build; where Leia was outspoken and direct, Mara was diplomatic when she wasn't keeping her opinions to herself. When in the company of those she considered close friends – and that was limited to the Skywalker and Kenobi family – Jade proved herself to be an intelligent, barb-tongued beauty.

Obi-wan had something of a soft spot for this youngling as well, and not because of her early years as one of the Emperor's minions-in-training. It was the way she reminded him of his mother. Sabe had practically adopted the girl a few years ago, and since then, Mara and Leia had been inseparable.

"Come have a seat, my dears." Obi-wan motioned to the closest chairs to his at the table.

The girls exchanged a look and stepped closer, but didn't move to sit.

"There's something we need to talk to you about," Leia began, "if you're not too busy."

"I'm never too busy for either of you, you know that." Obi-wan replied, setting his cup to the side. Whatever this was, it sounded serious. He had the vague fear that it might somehow relate to the issue of boys. He hoped not; Padme was at the capital so he couldn't deflect to her.

Leia hesitated, but one of those indecipherable looks that passed between the female species encouraged her to continue.

"We've come to a decision."

Despite himself, Obi-wan felt an eyebrow raise. "Oh?" he inquired.

"Yes," Leia replied, crossing her arms and raising her chin in that defiant manner that ever member of the Skywalker seemed to have developed to a perfection. Beside her, Mara raised clenched fists to her hips and stared down at the Jedi Master.

Obi-wan had the sudden sensation they were baring down upon him.

"I see," he replied, looking from one to the other. "Would you care to inform me of this decision?"

"You," his niece enlightened him, "are our master."

He waited for something more to follow, but both girls just continued to stand there, looking resolute.

After a moment, the implication of what Leia had said began to sink in. She hadn't used the term in deference, as any youngling or knight might refer to a Jedi Master. There had been an authoritative tone to her voice, a sort of claim being implemented in the statement. _He was their master…_

"Oh no," Obi-wan rose from his seat, hands spread in defense. "No, sweetheart, I'm afraid that is not the case."

Mara's green eyes narrowed. "It is now."

"No, no, it's not!" Obi-wan rebuked, pointing warningly at the two. "You can't do this! Younglings cannot go around laying claim to masters. That's not it works. And while I am touched – " and he was, Obi-wan realized with a start. He was deeply touched either of the girls would consider him appropriate to be their potential master, would want to be a student of his teachings – "even if I were to consider taking on a new apprentice, I could hardly take on both of you."

"And why not?" Leia demanded. She stepped forward, and Kenobi inadvertently took a step back, bumping into the table behind him. "Who says a master can't take on two apprentices? You and Daddy are on the Council now; you make the rules."

"Leia, sweetheart, it's not that easy." He turned pleading eyes on the more rational of the two girls. "Mara, surely you understand that having two apprentices would require a master to divide his attention between the two, making his lessons less efficient. It wouldn't be fair to the students."

"It was my idea."

Obi-wan groaned. "What in the Force has gotten into the two of you?"

Unexpectedly, a hand slipped into his. The Jedi Master looked down at his niece, and her big brown eyes bore into his.

"Uncle Obi, if you don't take me on as your apprentice, some other master will."

"Leia, there are plenty of other masters who would be more than suitable – "

"I don't _want_ any master other than you!"

He was weakening, Obi-wan could feel it. Something about those eyes, staring at him, so adoringly. Behind her friend, Mara stood silently. And as it rarely happened, Obi-wan thought he saw a deeper emotion flickering in her jaded eyes, something beyond the steely determination and cool reserve Mara allowed the galaxy to see. That she had yet to be claimed by a master was odd, but Obi-wan had always thought it was because there was still a shortage of fully-trained knights capable of teaching the younger generation.

Now he wondered if the bias against certain members of the Jedi was limited to only Dan-sen.

He could take Mara as his apprentice. They were well-suited to each other. Force, she was practically his daughter, after all. He could envision the two of them, on missions together, relaxing during the flights between worlds, at home with Sabe. He would take her to his homeworld, to meet his aging parents, who would love and dote on Mara in a way the girl had never known.

As if reading his thoughts, Mara gave a shake of her head.

"If anyone deserves to be your apprentice, Master Obi-wan, it's Leia."

He looked again at the child he had helped raise; the baby he had wrapped in blankets and handed into her father's waiting arms. It had been years, but Obi-wan still remembered the unabashed pleasure of hearing Leia saying his name for the first time. Until she had begun her training with the other younglings, Leia had always run to him to brush her hair, to tie in the colorful ribbons. Obi-wan had always worried that Anakin envied his daughter's preference for her uncle – not even related by blood – to her father. But the two had shared their own special relationship, and Skywalker had delighted in his daughter's open heart.

How could he _not_ take this girl as his apprentice? It was almost as if it had been destined since her birth. Why had this not occurred to him before?

But did he take as an apprentice the daughter he had never had, or the one girl who he had practically raised as one?

"You realize we're not giving you a choice in this matter?" Reading his emotions through the Force, Leia smiled in triumph. "Like I said before, we've come to a decision." She threw her arms up around her uncle and enveloped him in a powerful hug. "Please, say yes."

"Yes," Obi-wan heard himself say, feeling his heart expand.

Mara's bright smile was all the reassurance he needed to know he had made the right – the only – decision. He raised an arm, and Leia moved to the side slightly, making room for her.

The other girl hesitated. Then with a deep breath, Mara stepped forward and allowed herself to be pulled into the embrace.

Two apprentices.

He was going to need another cup of tea.

* * *

I know – its total fluff. ;)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE POTENTIAL-STORY TEASERS. I NEED YOUR IMPUT TO MAKE A DECISION.

Caslia


	7. It Must Run in the Family

Thank you to everyone for your replies, and your input on choosing my new story. I feel confident about _A Pair of Renegades_, partially because it's only five or six long posts, and also because I've given it a lot of thought. Since _By Your Side_ also got some support, I will have to give greater thought as to what I would do with it.

Hope everyone is doing well. It's crunch time for many of us college kids, as we say hello to finals. I've got two papers, a Chinese oral, and an exam, so if you don't hear from me till late May, that's why. That, or the swine virus. I live in NYC, and here things like that spread like - well - like a virus in a city of teaming masses who all use public transportation. I'm not worried: I survived the SARS epidemic in Taiwan back in '03. One day, it's just gonna be me and the cockroaches. Hope they're Star Wars fans.

This post turned out a lot gloomier than I intended, and manages to touch on a number of issues that relate back to real life that I never intented. Still, the last post was just so damned cheerful! Besides, it still manages to have a feel-good quality to it. Enjoy.

* * *

Sixteen years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

Normally, he would have griped about his attire. The pants had been starched and pressed, the shirt ironed to perfection. Han felt like someone had taken a brush to his hide and scrubbed him raw. But the weight of the medal on his breast and the bars he pinned to his collar were solemn reminders that he was not dressing for himself today.

The clicking of his polished boots followed after him through the tiled hallways of the Alderaanian palace. The sharp sound nipped at his heels, marching Han through the same hallways he had shuffled through not a year before. The occasional comrade-in-arms he encountered along the way gave a respectful nod.

He approached the lavish main quarters of the palace with great trepidation. The large ornate doors stood before him.

Old insecurities reared their heads. He wasn't worthy of this, didn't want to bear the weight of this or any responsibility on his shoulders, would just let them down. The anxious fluttering in his stomach told him to turn back now, to let this go. It wasn't worth the pain that was sure to come later.

But Han knew it was too late for that. For one thing, the Force sensitives behind the doors already knew he was here. And everyone was expecting him.

And, this wasn't about him. Solo was here in place of those couldn't be, and turning back now would be a great disservice. There was only the choice of carrying this burden proudly.

He palmed the door.

The room beyond was full of the smiling faces he had grown to love.

"Han, you look wonderful!" Padme rushed forward, pulling the young man into a gentle embrace. She smelled of sunlight and warm fuzzy things, just like a maternal figure should. But she was gone from his arms a moment later, brushing at his uniform. "Oh dear, you just look so handsome, I don't want to ruin it."

"No harm done, your Ladyship." Just being in her presence made Han feel better, and he found himself not having to force a smile.

Padme huffed. "Didn't I ask you to stop calling me that?"

"Yes, your Ladyship."

"Would it do any good if I _ordered_ you to stop?"

That old, lopsided grin appeared. "Not a chance, your Ladyship."

"Mom, are you going to hog the guest of honor _all_ night?" The question earned another huff from the woman, but she stepped aside to allow the rest of the room's occupants to join in welcoming home their young hero.

The twins were there, of course: temperamental Leia who had grown into quite the beauty in his absence, and crystal-eyed Luke, with his knowing stare. The kid was a real enigma. Sometimes Han thought his friend didn't have a care in the world. Then Luke would "see" something, as the others put it, and sink into a depression so deep Han was sure he'd never find his way back out again. But old Luke, he was a fighter.

Leia's hug was awkward in a way that it hadn't been there before. She seemed more conscious of the fact she was a young woman, no longer the angelic urchin who dolled up in her mother's lipstick and left sloppy kiss marks on his cheeks.

Luke offered his hand first, but neither of the young men could resist a hug.

"Hey there, kid. What's this I hear about you going off mission and taking on an entire Imp squadron all by yourself?"

Luke blushed. "You know me, Han."

"Yeah, I do. In trouble any chance you get."

"It must run in the family," Anakin commented as he came forward to offer his greeting.

Han hadn't been too sure where he stood with Skywalker when they had first met. Actually, they had had their first encounter when Anakin was still lugging around the mechanical coffin the Emperor had built to supposedly keep his then-apprentice alive. They hadn't officially met until Padme had brought her husband to meet the young captain who had accompanied her on the Jedi mission to Urteau. There had been a brief stand-off – Han didn't deal so well with authority figures and Anakin didn't appreciate impertinence – but a combination of his children's adulation of the one-time smuggler and Han's natural mechanical abilities had eventually won him Skywalker's admiration.

After that there was Sabe and Mara, the welcome if exasperating reception by the droids, and a woof from Chewie. The Wookie stood in the back, towering over everyone. The two had had their reunion earlier, in a more private setting.

Only Obi-wan remained seated. He offered a solemn nod that Han returned with a heavy heart.

The group had spared no expense in the celebration. As the family parted to make way for him, Han felt his heart expand upon seeing the effort they had put into this night.

These quarters were usually reserved for private soirees by the Alderaanian senator. Rich fabrics, warm tones and plush furniture made up the majority of the décor, with the occasional priceless art piece on display. Tonight, the room was filled not with cool sophistication, but bright laughter and welcome ease. The seats had all been turned to form a haphazard and overlapping circle, with short tables bulging with food and drinks in the middle. The sounds of a Corellian jazz band and dimmed lighting provided an intimate atmosphere.

"It took a lot of effort," Sabe confided to him as Han was practically dragged into the circle, "but we managed to convince Padme that balloons and streamers weren't the best choice."

Mara had a glass of the bubbly waiting for him. "The good stuff is in the back," she whispered as she handed him the glass. "Corellian whiskey, or Alderaanian ale?"

"Save it for another time, sweetheart." Han winked at the red-head, even as he longed to take her up on that offer. He could use a good strong drink right about now. But the medal hanging over his heart was a dead weight, a solid reminder of the honor due the souls he carried with him.

"A toast! To our _former_ Captain Solo!"

Han turned to meet Leia's gaze. He was amazed once again at how much she had changed. The dress she wore was more befitting a lady of the Imperial court, and not a Jedi apprentice in her mid-teens. Its dark red fabric hugged her budding figure.

His gaze traveled down her body only once, and briefly, but when he looked back into her face, Han could see an eager challenge in her dark eyes.

He wondered again where the innocent girl had gone, and where the scruffy imp that had been his younger self had disappeared to.

"To the General!" Voices rang out around the room as his family raised their glasses in his honor. Even Threepio raised a hand in salute, and Artoo gave a high-pitched whistle.

"Yep, General of a Special Ops Task Force, that's me." Han replied, shaking his head. He would never have thought one mission could turn him into an officer of the rebel fleet.

It had been a simple assignment. A rebel cell on a mid-rim planet had needed supplies. And though he occasionally tagged along with Anakin and Sabe on their insane undercover missions, or acted as Padme's personal transportation, Han was still listed as a smuggler hired by the Alliance.

He'd taken the job, leaving Chewie back at the fleet to assist the mechanics on the schematics for the new A-wings. The plan had been to meet up with Aly-anya Lainsa, Obi-wan's youngest sister and leader of the rebel cell on her homeplanet, and drop off the goods.

Han had arrived on planet to find a Star Destroyer in space – that was becoming a pattern – the cell dispersed, and the streets of the main city filled with stormtroopers. The Imps were doing their usual thing, parading around with their superiority complexes, barking orders and killing those slow to comply.

Wasn't long before Lainsa made contact with him. She was bright and sassy, and above all, had guts. She was convinced they could retake the planet without calling in the fleet for reinforcements. All they needed was the manpower. And Han had figured out where to get it, by calling in the aid of the underground element, the ruffians and lowlifes. That was where Han's charm came in handy. It had been a long time since he'd been on the Nal Hutta streets, but he could still talk the talk. Before long, they had a ragtag band of renegades, armed with the supplied he'd brought. The cities had erupted into street warfare, spilling out into the countryside when the urban battlegrounds could no longer contain the volatile masses. When it was over, bodies had littered the scorched earth.

But they'd won. And because his ploy had worked, High Command had given him an official rank, a task force to lead, and this medal.

"Who would have ever believed it?"

"_I did, cub._" Chewie barked, landing a heavy paw on his charge's shoulder.

Solo felt like he had a krayt dragon trying to claw its way out of his stomach.

"_I am only sorry that I was not there to see your moment of triumph. You have come of age in a difficult time, but you have done it with honor. I do not have the gift of the Force, so I can't see what lies ahead for you_," the Wookie gave the young man a shake, "_but I know you will meet all future challenges with the bravery that has earned you that medal._"

It was one of the longest speeches Han had ever heard his life-long friend make. And as touching as it was, all he could think was how strange it was that the one person who knew him the best couldn't see that this was killing him.

"_To the General_!" Chewie roared, dismissing all decorum and Han's pristine attire to fling his arms around the new officer and lift him up into the air.

"To the General!" The others toasted.

And that was how the evening went. The family gathered around to eat and drink and laugh and talk. They told stories about what had happened in Han's absence.

Luke _had_ gotten into a dogfight with an entire squadron while on a mission. His training and inherited piloting skills alone had saved him. The lecture he had received from his master had been harsh.

"You are entirely too reckless," Anakin reprimanded him again with the shake of a finger.

"Are you saying that as my master or as my father?"

"Both. I don't know what possessed me to think I could possibly manage the responsibility of your training. We are far too much alike."

Luke just grinned.

Having pushed their way into the mid-rim, the Alliance was well within familiar territory, and many of the former-Republic planets were now in support of the rebellion. There was no longer a need for someone to manage the relations between the organization and its supporters, so Padme was once again out of a job. But there was plenty that needed to be done.

"I'm thinking of starting a program to track and reunite families divided by the Clone Wars and now the Civil War. It's similar to some of the projects I worked on before becoming Queen of Naboo and supported while working with the Senate. Something that will really do some good."

"You really think you'll have any luck with that?" Han inquired.

She reached an arm around each of her children and hugged them close. Luke allowed it, but Leia squirmed away after a moment, blushing and not looking in Han's direction.

"I was lucky enough to be reunited with my family," Padme replied. "I want that for others. You know you and Mara will always have a place with us, but wouldn't it be wonderful if we could find your birth families?"

Han shrugged. "My parents are probably dead anyway."

"And sometimes," and voice that hadn't spoken yet tonight interjected, "it might be best to leave well enough alone."

There was no accusation in the words, but Han felt himself cringe anyway. The others had fallen silent in response to Obi-wan's comment, and the festive atmosphere seemed to have died a sudden and hard death.

"Forgive me," the older Jedi said, closing his eyes with a weary sigh. "I did not mean to interrupt."

"No problem," Han snapped, "you got a point, after all." He rose to his feet, ignoring the hands reaching to pull him back into the comfort of the plush seating and familial warmth. Passing his glass to Threepio, he turned and headed for the balcony. "Don't mind me. Just gonna get some air."

The balcony lent itself to a magnificent view. Alderaan didn't allow lights after a certain hour, so the night was bright with stars. The half-crescent moon hung low over the snow-capped mountains in the distance. His breath rolled out as curling wisps of fog.

Too bad Han was shaking so hard he couldn't enjoy it.

The chill wasn't in his body; it wasn't cold enough for that. It originated from someplace else, someplace inside him, where his internal organs had cut loose from their various tubes and begun to bounce around. He had the feeling he was going to be sick, but his stomach wasn't in the right place, and there was a weight on his chest, but his lungs worked just fine.

He was falling through empty air, with nothing below him but more space. It wasn't the exhilarating free-fall through space, but rather a gut-wrenching, nightmarish plunge that he had no way to abort.

Then there was a gentle weight on his shoulders, and a voice in his ear.

"Here, put this on."

Han wrapped the dark, coarse fabric of the Jedi cloak tighter around himself. "Thanks."

"Any time." Anakin stood for a moment, hand clasped behind his back. He stared out at the same scenery, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. "Obi-wan did not mean to cause you further pain."

"Man's got a right to grieve, and a right to be angry."

"He is not angry with you, Han."

The newly appointed general scoffed, attempting to appear dismissive. Foolish, to put up a show in front of a Force user, but he still had some pride.

"It's my fault."

"No, it wasn't. Han, you have a great deal of talent, and courage. You are strong, and you give others around you the strength to endure. You may not realize it yet, but you have the power to inspire others, just as you did when you called those criminals to arms."

"Yeah, great idea _that_ was."

"The plan had flaws, yes. Certainly no military academy in the galaxy will ever teach your particular brand of battle strategy."

The attempt at humor fell flat, and they lapsed into silence.

At last, the Jedi turned back to him. Skywalker looked concerned, and not a little frustrated. Compassion he had plenty of, but not patience.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

Solo breathed out into the cool darkness, watching his breath swirl. "I should have known better."

Anakin was quiet, waiting.

"Lainsa ordered me to arm them. The smugglers and the criminals and the ruffians we coached into joining us. I should have known that once we routed the Imperials they would turn on us."

"You think you traded one evil for another."

"And got Lainsa killed in the process."

"That was not your doing. It was not your fault, Han."

"Like hell it wasn't." He wanted to scream, wanted to tear into Skywalker knowing the man could beat him down, was capable of making him suffer. But Han was suddenly so tired, he could barely force the words. "I recruited those people. I _inspired_ them, like you said. We retook the planet, and then they wrestled with us for control. People got killed, innocent people. How's that any better than what the Imps did?"

With a shaking hand, he reached up and clasped the medal pinned to his tunic.

"And then High Command goes and gives me this. Like I'm some kind of hero. Like just because that planet is now back in the Alliance, the people I got killed don't count any more. Like Lainsa doesn't count any more. What's that Hutt spit?"

"It is," Anakin replied solemnly, staring off at the distant mountains, "the life of a hero."

"I don't want any damned part of it."

The Jedi was quiet a moment longer, just standing and letting his breath curl in the cool of the evening. He didn't seem to notice the lack of his cloak. Feeling detached, Han silently wondered at the man who stood beside him, and the role he played. From hero to villain back to hero, Skywalker had the full range of experience. How miserable Solo was in comparison; he couldn't even endure this single failure, let alone even consider facing the things Anakin had.

"It may not be my honor to be your mentor," the older man finally spoke, "but may I offer some advice?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Be proud, Han. You did your best, and that is all anyone, including you, can ask of yourself. You cannot save everyone, Han. Believe me, I've tried." Anakin paused, turned to look at him. In the dark of night without benefit of lights, Han could not see his eyes. They were pitch black holes in the Jedi's face, depthless and wise. "You have earned this title and this medal. The only one whose opinion matters who does or ever will consider you unworthy of them is yourself. For what it may be worth, I am proud of you."

Old instincts rose up to counteract the sudden lump blocking his throat. "Wow," Han managed, "where did you get that? Picked it out of the 'empty platitudes' section at the holocards store?"

Anakin remained silent.

Han bit down on his lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just that I feel – ah, forget it."

He slung the cloak off his shoulders and held it out. Time to be tough, to brace against the cold as best he could. He would go inside and face all those people so pleased at the thought of him being a hero. He'd smile for their sake, and then gratefully retreat to his quarters where sleep would take him to blissful oblivion.

"You feel," Anakin remarked, "like you failed. And not just the rebel cell or the innocent people on that planet. Not just Lainsa. But the people you care about. You feel that you failed Chewbacca, and Padme. The twins, and Obi-wan. You feel like you let us down."

Han's bottom lip trembled. That hadn't happened since the cave in on Urteau, when Padme had lovingly brushed aside the dust and grit from his face. He had known then that he would do anything for her, and for her family. They were brave, they were righteous. And most importantly, they truly cared.

"Yeah," he whispered miserably. "I failed."

Anakin continued to stare at him from out of the darkness. He stood there, apparently thinking, till Han's arm grew tired and he lowered the cloak.

"You're right," the Jedi said at last. The emotional onslaught must have shown on his face, because Skywalker held up a hand before Han could manage a bitter retort. "You are right that, in comparison to knowing that people are dead – regardless of your efforts to save them – my words do seem hollow. I wish I could tell you that this feeling will go away. I wish someone had told me the same once. But it won't. Best you can hope for is the next time – and there will undoubtedly be a next time – the memory of that feeling will be what you need to do what you can to save whomever you can."

They were not exactly words of comfort, but Han could feel the weight on his chest lifting, solid ground forming under his feet again.

He opened his mouth to say – he didn't know what. A thousand things came to mind. A snarky retort. A plea for something more. Maybe to ask about Anakin's own experiences, maybe offer something of himself to this man with whom he had no clearly defined relationship, but whom he respected nonetheless. Could he force anything past the ache and the relief? To know he wasn't alone, that this unwanted burden was shared between the two of them…

"What are you two talking about out here?"

Han turned, the moment dissolving into the night.

Padme stood silhouetted in the now-open doorway. Behind her, Han could hear laughter and music. He would have to go back in and face that. But suddenly it wasn't so daunting, or unwelcome. Maybe he would even get the chance to speak with Kenobi.

"Hyperdrives," Anakin answered for them.

"Aha," his wife replied. "Just as I expected. Well, don't stay out much longer, or you'll catch cold."

"Yes, dear."

She was gone a moment later, leaving the door half open. Han wasn't fooled for a moment she believed her husband.

He turned back to Skywalker. "Thank you."

Anakin nodded. "Will you come back inside?"

"Gimme a minute?"

The Jedi nodded and then followed his wife through the door. Han was left alone in the quiet.

He reached up and fingered the bars on his collar, designating his new rank. His fingers trailed down to the medal. Then, one by one, he undid the clasps on his tunic. It fell open to reveal the white, stiff shirt underneath. It wasn't much of a change in his attire, but it felt less constraining somehow. After tonight, he would never wear the medal again. He didn't need to wear it for those who had died.

He would honor them as best he could.

With a deep breath, Han turned and went back inside.

* * *

Haha! Even when I'm writing from another character's point of view, I still end up writing about Anakin or Obi-wan, or both. I tried to write the narrative voice similar to Han's, such as his description of Vader in the suit.

Caslia


	8. Light and Shadows

LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Nihao (hello) from China! I am presently residing at the Minzu University in Beijing, taking summer language courses. In a few weeks, I was planning on heading over to Xinjiang, but then racial tensions in the area spiked. So instead of going to the part of China with a strong Muslim influence, I'm headed north where there is a strong Russian influence, Heilongjiang. Hopefully, I'll get to see the volcanoes, massive waterfalls that rival those found in South America, the Northern Lights, and then climb one of China's holy mountains, where the Chin Emperor proclaimed himself the ruler of a "united" Chinese kingdom following the end of the Warring States period.

Other events of note: I am in the process of wooing a beta reader, someone to talk ideas with, keep an eye out for embarrassing mistakes, and prod me along when the time between posts is in the red. She's off on vacation at the moment, so these next two posts have not been looked over, but all future posts will have received attention from someone other than myself. Any future improvements then are all due to my wonderful beta.

I'd like to thank in advance those fanfic writers who allowed me to use their AU's in this post, all of which are wonderful stories that I ardently recommend to you all. Most were kind enough to give me their permission to mention their fic's plot – save for Kee, who is a long-time pal, so I'm sure she'll forgive me; and another author who never got back to me, but will hopefully forgive my trespassing. All the stories by other authors are listed at the end of the post, with teasers included, and can be found on . I would highly recommend them all. My only regret with this post is that I could not include all my fav fics by other authors.

I also have to apologize (as it seems I always must, as this is becoming a terrible habit) of the long delay between posts. Between taking classes, and the numerous times I have rewritten this post to get it just right, it's taken forever to hammer this post out. Good news, I've already started the other one. So after I get back from Heilongjiang, there should be the next post before too long.

I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Eighteen years after _Rebirth of the Light_

* * *

"_Things have changed, Anakin. This is not the way things were meant to be. I'm afraid that if you really wanted to know, you'd have to ask Luke…"_

* * *

Flashes of color momentarily blinded him – the whirl of sapphire as the blade flew overhead, the spark as honest emerald sizzled into life, the sting of angry yellow rising from the back of his mind, the murky memory of a scarlet blade as it bore down upon him – and Luke grinned, ducking away before any of the colors could solidify.

With each step, he rejoiced in the dance. The pulsing flow of the Force overtook him, directing each movement across the floor. The slap of bare feet against the tile, the sharp intake of breath, the flap and slide of clothing – the sounds became entangled in a harmonious melody, a rhythm that guided his movements.

"Focus. Be here in the moment. Attempt to predict my movements so you can counter them."

Luke tried to do as instructed. He could sense the direction his opponent's blade was going to take, saw the potential misstep about to occur, the shift in the air as others passed in and out of the room. His body basked in the heavy warmth of rare sunlight beating against the stained glass windows high above. His skin shivered, tracing the grain in the marble pillar that he momentarily braced against. The whole chamber, from the cool recesses between pillars to the high domed ceiling from where the morning light shown down, echoed with silent laughter, engendered by Luke's emotions. The old ballroom on the Alderaanian estate was ideal for their practice duels.

His opponent's saber technique seemed heavy-handed, weighty, lacking in the simple grace of Luke's own movements. They would have been equally matched in speed, if Luke didn't have the advantage of being young and full of compressed energy.

"You may think yourself quick, son," Anakin lightly admonished, though he was unable to hide a smile. "But as your master, it is my duty to remind you this old Jedi is _still_ better versed in the techniques of the saber."

And with that, the elder Jedi wrapped his blade around his apprentice's, and with a flick of his wrist, sent Luke's saber flying. It clattered a few feet away, green blade still ignited, but before Luke could call it back to his hand, his father grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him around. With one arm across his son's shoulders, locking his arms down, Anakin brought his own sapphire blade up to the teenager's neck.

Luke forced himself not to stiffen, to keep his emotions light, even as those murky memories clouded around the edge of his mind. Heavy, mechanical breathing wheezed in his ears, and then was replaced with the mellow cadence of his father's voice.

"Well done, Luke. You held out much longer this time. A few more sessions, and you'll be ready to take on an entire legion of dark Jedi."

"And _still_ not be able to beat you," Luke joked, even as he glowed from his father's praise. It was a balm to his heart, sending the shadowy images at his mind's edge slipping back through the cracks that laced his soul.

The blue blade faded back into its hilt, and strong arms tightened around him, pulling Luke into a welcome embrace.

Luke closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of his father's presence, Anakin's cheek pressed into his hair. Though he had shot up some in the last few years, Luke had resigned himself to always being the shorter of the two. Times like these, his short stature actually pleased him, allowing him to feel almost engulfed by his father's arms wrapped protectively around him.

He raised his hands to wrap around Anakin's forearms. There was a soft whirling sound as the fingers in his left hand closed.

The memory of the sting of an amber saber slashed through his mind again, but in the safety of his father's arms, nothing could hurt him.

"Don't think on it, son." Anakin whispered, his voice carrying both reassurance and remorse. "Let it go."

Luke would like to let it go. There were a lot of things he would like to not remember, or know, or be aware of through the ethereal tangle of time and space that the Force had interwoven inside him.

Still, the image of pearly teeth smiling out at him from between bloodless lips appeared. Trailing after it was the sight of silken strands of dark hair tangling in the wind, black eyes rolling up as the woman's body teetered on the edge of the Corellian landing pad.

As she gave way to gravity, her hand slipped through his, the skin already cold.

The smell of burned ozone threatened to drag him into the depthless recess of half-cast memories and not-memories, a child's nightmares and a veteran's recollections of the horrors life had to offer.

Arms tightened around him, and Luke came back to the brightly-lit chamber, the cool tiles under his heels, the presence full of understanding and love standing behind him. He used the latter to steady himself in the present.

"Are you ready to talk about it yet?"

He considered answering, but the shine of bright emerald caught his eye.

The blade was in his hand a moment later and, his captor/comforter caught by surprise, Luke burst from the embrace. He spun on the ball of his foot, his blade rising effortlessly through the air.

It clashed against its counterpart, and across the blades, Luke could see his father's eyes, wide in a mixture of astonishment and admiration. No disappointment. That was something Luke never saw from the elder Skywalker. Anakin knew when his son was ready to talk, he would.

And maybe, Luke reflected, he was ready.

He blocked, spun away, disengaged his blade, and leapt over his opponent. The Force carried him high and far enough to make the jump, and protected his knees from the hard jarring sensation as his feet reconnected with the floor. Luke had his saber ignited and ready before his father had time to turn in place.

Their sabers connected again, sending bright white sparks dancing along the length of the blades. They burst in the bright sunlight, blinding to anyone without the ability to protect their eyes with the Force.

"I wanted to save her."

"I know." Anakin replied solemnly.

The elder Jedi momentarily increased the pressure against Luke's blade. Then in an unexpected move, he swung down, adding yet another scorch into the marble flooring. The blade hissed as it carved into the rock. The new move caught Luke off guard, and as his father's saber continued in its arch, rising above their heads, Luke had just enough time to raise his own weapon to block the downward swing. The floor remained cool under his feet, despite the abuse it has received, and he instinctively adjusted his footing, standing wide and balanced.

"But she didn't want to be saved." His father said from across their crossed blades. "Not everyone wants to be."

Luke broke their lock by centering his body and shoving against his father with all he had. For an eighteen-year-old, he was slim, and despite all his training his body hadn't built up much muscle. Still, it was enough to push the older man back a few paces, allowing both opponents to return to defensive positions.

"I know," Luke replied, a little out of breath. He liked the sweat trailing down from his temples, the slight ache in his lungs. He could feel the blood pounding in his fingers and toes. These were little signs, beyond the bright pulse of the Force, that told him he was _here_. "But you did."

His father laughed, ducked under the swing of his son's green blade.

"That could have just as easily been me, son." Anakin's smile remained bright, his presence in the Force radiating with an acceptance and self-awareness lacking in most of Luke's visions. His eyes flickered like ice shards in the sunlight, outshining the sparks off their blades.

Luke disengaged and turned, running up the nearest pillar, with Anakin only a step behind. The younger of the two flipped halfway up, and swung at his opponent as he fell. Only, his master was no longer there, having anticipated the move before Luke even made it.

His feet slammed back onto the floor, a solid slap against the marble that sent dust fluttering up into the sunlight.

His heart beating against his chest, Luke gasped for breath in the sudden stillness.

Other than the Jedi apprentice, nothing in the room moved.

Though he could still feel his father's presence, he felt suddenly alone in the brightness. Shapes lurked in the cool shadows around the pillars, drifting in and out with the light breeze that had managed its way under the door.

He waited, tense with excitement.

"But then," his father's voice spoke from the shaded recesses, "I guess only you would know that for certain."

For a moment, Luke didn't know what he was referring to. Their earlier conversation had come and gone from his mind, replaced with his concentration of the duel and the underlying joy – always present no matter the situation – of father and son merely being together.

It was the closest his father – or anyone else, for that matter – had come to directly referring to his strange abilities. The weight of his visions was something he had long ago learned to bear alone. But as Luke eyed the shadows, seeking out the location of his opponent, he wondered if this wasn't also something he was ready to talk about.

"It's always different." The air around him shifted, feeling lighter, cool against the heat of his skin. Luke turned slowly on his heel, blade half-raised. Still he stood alone in the center of the room. "But it's also always the same."

He swung around to his left, having detected movement. He was met with empty air.

"There is Darkness in your visions."

Trying to track his father's voice was almost as pointless as trying to find him through the Force. Anakin had long ago learned how to hide or misdirect. Luke knew the older Jedi was passing silently from pillar to pillar. He also knew that taking the direct route and entering that shaded place would put him at the mercy of his adversary. Slowly, the young Jedi paced silently along the boundary of light and shadow. Fingertips made from synthetic skin traced the grain in each of the columns as he passed.

"Yes."

"That must be painful for you to see." The voice carried with it the memory of old regrets.

"That's okay. There couldn't be any Light if there wasn't Darkness."

"True." It sounded like Anakin was right beside him, maybe just on the other side of the pillar. Luke stood in the sunlight, hand pressed against the stonework, trying to feel beyond it. "But it cannot be easy to watch the suffering of those you love."

Luke moved on to the next column, feeling his way with both the Force and his fingertips. He could hear now the hum of his father's lightsaber.

"You cannot prevent or ease their sorrows. You cannot save them, Luke. Perhaps you can't save me, either."

A jolt passed with a zing and bright cackle through Luke's mind. His pace remained steady, breathing even, focus uninterrupted, as others' thoughts and memories came to him in jagged clarity, a speeder crash behind his eyeballs.

He had seen this vision before, of his father's red blade screaming as it sang through his flesh. But it was the woman who fell, dark hair trailing behind her, amber blade lying discarded on the landing pad. Luke's one hand was stretched out to her, a silent plea his other self in the vision didn't yet understand.

The images – perhaps better to say the sudden recollection of these things – were gone as quickly as they had come.

"Not always," he replied softly.

He could sense Anakin's hesitation, the combating urge to ask his son of the things he had seen, and the fear of what he might learn.

With a steadying breath, Luke gave up his hunt along the perimeter of the pillars. It was useless, this teetering on the edge, hoping to engage his father without actually entering the shadows to go after him. His indecisiveness could cost them both.

He slid into the dim recess, enjoying the sudden shift from the heavy warmth of the sunlight into the caress of the shaded marble. The chill of the floor under his bare feet made his soles ache. His eyes adjusted to the change in light and forms began to take shape. Luke lowered his blade so that the emerald glow wouldn't blind him in the dimness.

"I have seen the Darkness take you," he spoke into the shadows, knowing his words would carry to his father. "I've seen it bind you till death, and I've seen you released from its hold to live a good life. I've watched people I love – people _you_ love – die by your hand, and people who love you bear the burden of taking your life."

There was a long moment of silence following his remark. Luke could imagine his father, back against a pillar, eyes closed, breathing in and out slowly to calm his surge of emotions. Through their connection in the Force, the searing pain that ripped into Anakin's heart now clawed at his own. It faded a moment later to the dull ache of resignation.

Luke glided around another pillar, back pressed against its cool surface. The Force wrapped around him, guiding him, so not even the dust was disturbed by his passing. As he made his way closer, he continued to speak.

"In some of the visions, the Light triumphs over the Darkness, the balance of the Force is restored. In others, the soured justice of the Old Republic and its Jedi, or the black stain that is the Empire and the Sith remain unchallenged. The galaxy is always consumed by the strife between opposing side of the Force, and our family is always at the heart of the storm. We are broken and empowered, repelled and entangled. We are saviors, victims and criminals, no more than casualties of destiny, meant to be sacrificed for the greater good. And yet we are also the makers of our own destinies, though often our best intentions are the ones that lead us the farthest astray."

Memories of other lives appeared like ethereal wraiths, glimmer in the shadows around him, pale cerulean forms as familiar to Luke as the Force presences of those he knew and loved in this life. The recesses between pillars became haunted by both significant and inconsequential moments of those other realities.

His father and Obi-wan dueled on a fiery planet. Anakin, with his eyes smoldering, won the battle, but Luke knew he would spare his old master, just as he knew that single act would later prove to be his father's salvation.

The vision shifted, and Anakin lay burning on the blackened terrain. Kenobi was at his side an instant later, extinguishing the flames and wrapping his wounded brother in a Jedi cloak and tender-yet-raw emotions.

A younger version of himself sat as a guest at the anniversary banquet celebrating the birth of the Empire. His father, physically encased in a prison of his own making, stands behind his unwilling heir, unconsciously battling avarice, remorse, despair and love.

As the ruler of a stable and peaceful Empire, his father quietly gazed up at the stars. The loneliness of the moment faded at the entrance of the Jedi Council's head master. Ever loyal, Obi-wan has done his best these many long years to ease the pain of Padme's absence. Together, they have managed to save the galaxy, and themselves.

"I don't know if the things I see are events happening in some other reality." With practiced ease, Luke ignored the dull glimmers that lurked around him. His every sense was concentrated on piercing the darkness. Still, he spoke, the weight of the moment heavy upon him. "Or if they are merely what _could_ have happened."

Around him, the wraiths shifted, taking on less familiar forms, the shadows around them darkening. An older Luke, radiant with righteous indignation, stood in opposition to the dark form of a Sith Lord. His other self became bowed under the knowledge of his heritage, before straightening with purpose, determined to reclaim his father's soul. Rescued by his enemy from imperial interrogation, stricken by an incurable illness or loss of resolve, reunited with his father by negotiations or war, dead on the floor of a weapon of mass terror, never having existed – the possibilities of countless other lives faded in and out of the dim light, dream-like recollections whispering to him.

"There _is_ Darkness in my visions. There is suffering, and loss, and sometimes you are the one that can't be saved." Luke paused, reaching out with the Force. His father's presence wrapped around him, a gentle embrace. "But there is also hope. There is _always_ that hope, in this and every life worth living. Maybe I couldn't have saved that woman, from herself or the Darkness. But that won't stop me from trying."

The Force opened up before Luke's eyes, visions of the future glimmering just beyond his sight. There would be Darkness, of course, and times of uncertainty, when their hope would falter. There would others like the dark Jedi that he would reach out for and have to watch slip away, and others who would grab his hand.

"I am very glad to hear that, son."

The apparitions, like smoke, drifted away as Luke turned to look past the pillars. His father stood in the center of the room, waiting for him.

"I don't have your abilities, Luke. But I don't need them to foresee you will be a great Jedi. More importantly, I know you will be a _good person_. Not because you are strong in the Force, because of your bravery, or your determination to do what's right. Those were all things I had as a young Jedi, and they did me little good when faced with my own faults. It is because, despite what you have seen, your heart remains open."

His father reached a hand, offering for his son to come join him. Luke felt the Force swirling around him, as bright and glittering as all the stars in the galaxy, the brilliance of the Light of this life reflected in Anakin's eyes.

Reflecting the other's soft smile, Luke extinguished his blade and stepped out to join his father in the sunlight.

* * *

The other fics mentioned include:

Coming Home – sick Luke seeks out Vader

A Resolution between Shadows and Light – Obi-wan gets Anakin medical help after Mustafar

Fire and Ice – Anakin wins the duel, but spares Obi-wan

Force Bond Series – a touching series in which Vader attempts to raise Luke on Coruscant

Equally Cursed and Blessed – (included before receiving author's permission; very sorry, but had to include it as I love it so much) – Luke is rescued from Imperial interrogation by Vader

Negotiations with Destiny – A pre-RotJ negotiations between Imperial and Rebel forces have Luke and Vader, along with Han, Leia, Jix, Piett, and _Obi-wan and Qui-gon_ interacting on a daily basis. One of my all-time favs! (The full version can be found HERE

A Pair of Renegades – an upcoming story by yours truly, in which Anakin does his best to use the Darkside for good, with Obi-wan's help.

:( There were just so many good stories that I absolutely love and I just couldn't fit them all in! But I didn't want to overload the part with the visions. *Sigh* Well, maybe I can find a way to sneak some more in later. ;) If any of the links don't work, please let me know.

**BY THE WAY, DOES ANYONE KNOW WHO WROTE A SW FIC ENTITLED 'WALKING ON THE SKY'? THE WEB ADDRESS I HAVE FOR IT NO LONGER WORKS AND I AM ABSOLUETLY DESPERATE FOR THE FIC. IT WAS THE INSPIRATION FOR 'A PAIR OF RENEGADES'. PLEASE LET ME KNOW!**

Thank you to everyone for reading, and for your patience! Hope you are all enjoying your summer. There will be a new post up hopefully before but probably after my week-long trip to Heilongjiang, and hopefully an "I do!" from my potential beta reader. Till then, may the Force be with you!

Caslia


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